


hers

by keyshrine



Series: you inspired me [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Kissing, cute kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyshrine/pseuds/keyshrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supergirl kisses Cat on a Sunday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hers

Supergirl kisses Cat on a Sunday.

Cat expects many things of Supergirl; she is, after all, the newest face of CatCo (of course, second to Cat herself, but then again, isn't everyone?) and she has to live up to that, has to impress each and every citizen in National City, or else it will just prove to everyone that Cat Grant, queen of media itself, has bet on the wrong horse. And she _never_ bets on the wrong horse. In this case, Supergirl is the horse. The very powerful, superhuman horse from another planet entirely, who can shoot lasers out of her eyes.

Yes. Cat has always expected so many things of and from Supergirl; from everyone, really, but Supergirl especially because Supergirl is _hers,_ her creation, even that very _name_ is hers. She _made_ Supergirl. The hero is her creation and her creation alone, purely; without Cat's influence she would just be a nameless, faceless woman who saved people from fires occasionally. But Cat has lifted her into the eye of the public, ever-critical as that eye might be.

Supergirl is because of her. Cat would say, too, that Supergirl owes her everything and that she can bring Supergirl down as quickly as she'd raised her up, but she's not that sort of person (despite what so many people like to think) and she is not so...ridiculously, cheaply maniacal as to ever say any of that garbage. She doesn't need to. Supergirl is doing fine. More than fine, really.

Just a week ago, she saved eight children from a burning building. _Honestly._ At this point, Cat doesn't need to do anything but sit back and watch.

Supergirl visits her from time to time, too; never for a nice, pleasant chat and a cup of tea but more because Cat has called her (and by called, she of course means telling Kara to contact James to contact Supergirl, but that's close enough, isn't it?) and, as always, she comes.

It is a Sunday, and a relatively chilly evening, and she is out on her balcony with Supergirl, and it is one of those visits where everything that has needed to be said is done and over with and said, but Supergirl lingers all the same and Cat doesn't look at her and say shoo, shoo, because she doesn't actually mind Supergirl's presence that much at all. Of course she doesn't. And if Supergirl wants to stay around and say nothing and do nothing but gaze out over the whole of National City alongside her, that's perfectly fine with Cat. Supergirl isn't nearly as annoying as everyone else is.

That's probably those alien genes kicking in, making her less irritating than a normal human being which she is not. It seems slightly logical. Slightly.

Supergirl turns to her, eventually, in that way that usually signifies her leaving; Cat shifts to face her, too, more than prepared to watch the girl (it's odd to think of her as one because she looks like one but for all Cat knows she could be centuries older, because she's an alien) fly off. It never loses its appeal, not really, seeing that red and blue streak dart across the night sky over skyscrapers and soon, very soon and very quickly, out of sight.

Not that Cat would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.

“Goodbye, Miss Grant,” Supergirl says, and then kisses her.

Cat freezes up. It feels like every muscle in her body locks, maybe like she's turned to stone or iron right there and then and for a moment she's so shocked, so genuinely surprised that it is very nearly heart-stopping, and in all of that she has a thought:

_Perhaps Supergirl is doing this to her._

Well. Obviously, she is, but perhaps she has some sort of power that makes Cat feel like she's going to faint, because when Supergirl pulls back after only a moment, she feels so dizzy and she's much too close to the balcony's wall and it's stupid to think that she'd tip over it because she'd have to actually climb over it and just fall but it's there and she looks down, a little, and they're very far up and she wavers on her feet. And Supergirl kissed her. Supergirl is still here, and she is watching Cat, and just seconds ago, she kissed her. Kissed her. Of all people. Of all things. Of all places. Supergirl kissed Cat Grant, right here, on this balcony, only seconds ago.

She can twist that sentence around and around and around into so many different shapes and forms, can put different words in front of each other and behind each other and yet it still is as surprising as the last time she'd thought it. She looks at Supergirl, and Supergirl looks at her, and Cat feels the noise come out of her, a soft shocked _oh,_ entirely without her permission. Supergirl looks away. Blushing. Supergirl is blushing. Cat would laugh if she wasn't so...

Well. Completely shellshocked. Dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Dazed. Staggered. Absolutely, one-hundred percent, ridiculously thunderstruck.

She realizes, also, as soon as the hazy feeling of being completely taken aback by something she's never expected to happen in a million and one lifetimes starts to fade, Supergirl hasn't flown away yet. She's stayed around to see Cat's reaction. Which is...somewhat unfortunate, seeing as her reaction is this idiotic.

Cat thinks about how soft Supergirl's lips had been when they pressed against her own and remembers, faintly, in the very back of her mind, Supergirl lifting a hand to briefly cup her jaw during it; and then she'd pulled away, quick enough that all sensations of the kiss did not last very long. Except for the shock. Naturally.

“Well,” Cat says, folds her arms, “That was...interesting.” She never knew Supergirl had the capability to turn so red. It's...strangely charming. Cat shakes her head, once, hard, as though to banish that thought from her head. It doesn't work as intended; it just makes her a little more dizzy. She watches Supergirl pull her bottom lip beneath her teeth, slowly, white against a gentle spread of pink, and finds that strangely charming too. _Ugh._ She could slap herself. She really could.

“Goodnight, Supergirl,” she says, very firmly, pulls herself together and straightens; she's no longer going to act like some dawdling, flustered idiot who's never been kissed a day in her entire life. It had just been somewhat unexpected. Yes. Unexpected. That was all. “And, next time, ask permission,” she adds, and Supergirl's head snaps around to look at her as though she's made some sort of joke. Supergirl's lips part—Cat finds herself watching that, more than anything else, more than the flicker of Supergirl's eyes roaming back and forth over her face like she's trying to figure out some sort of particularly difficult puzzle.

“Next time?” Supergirl asks, and looks like she hadn't intended to sound so hopeful. Cat cocks a brow.

“Next time,” Cat says, and watches Supergirl rise up into the sky, staring down at her all the while. National City's very own hero casts her a bright smile, and Cat has the oddest sensation of thinking that smile is awfully familiar, but—then that sensation is gone, and so is Supergirl.

It's annoying, she decides an hour and a half later when she's being driven home, scrolling idly through her phone's contents and yet not truly seeing—she has texts from people she doesn't care about and calls from people she doesn't care about. She has two missed phone calls from her mother, and she shudders and scrolls quicker, and keeps thinking about that, about Supergirl's mouth against her own. It had been warm. And very pleasant... _well,_ not very, she reasons to herself, it hadn't been spectacular at all, no fireworks had flashed behind her eyes when Supergirl kissed her (but then, that had never happened, not with anyone ever, and she had realized a long time ago that the whole fireworks thing was only in the books and movies and if anyone said anything else they were liars), and it had been so short that she hardly had time to do anything about it at all. Not that she would have. But it was... Well. It was something.

She thinks about it for the entire drive; the memory is not at the front of her mind but somewhere very close to it, and it lingers persistently and she hates it. She thinks about it when she has a light dinner alone in her house, and thinks about it when she lays down, and thinks about it all until she sleeps, at last, and she doesn't have any dreams about kissing Supergirl but when she wakes up in the morning it's the fourth thought she has and she realizes that a headache is coming on the same time that she realizes no amount of trying will get that damned kiss out of her head.

She doesn't bury her head into her pillow and scream, but she certainly feels like doing just that.

Instead, she gets up, she showers, she dresses, she orders her driver to take her directly to CatCo early, she glares at Kara when she comes in and says, far too chipper for Cat's liking, “Here's your latte, Miss Grant,” and even glares at the latte afterwards even though it's perfect. And hot, which is the important thing. “Is something wrong, Miss Grant?” her assistant asks afterwards, a little nervously.

“Ugh,” Cat replies, and shoos her away.

She's impatient and annoyed and vaguely angry all day; she snaps at someone for nearly running into her, which usually wouldn't get such a rise out of her, and almost fires Dave because he's moved back to his original desk as though she won't notice that awful, fire-orange head of hair constantly in her view as soon as she so much as looks up and forward. Instead of doing so, though, she simply grips onto a pen very tightly and ends up snapping it and spilling ink all over her desk. She gets so agitated with that alone that when Kara comes in to help her, she shouts at her, and only rolls her eyes and very reluctantly lets her help when Kara's face falls into that horrible kicked puppy expression, that somehow manages to make Cat feel as though she has kicked a puppy.

The calmest she is all day is when Supergirl visits her again, as expected; she spends most of her time between five to eight taking half-glances out of her balcony doors, in search of that hovering figure.

Finally, it happens; she looks out, and Supergirl is there, still and silent. Cat wastes no time in getting up and stepping through the doors, arms crossed loosely over her chest. And Supergirl wastes no time, either—the first words out of her mouth are immediate, just as soon as Cat steps out onto the balcony, “I'm sorry.” Cat blinks. Well. That hadn't been what she'd expected.

“What?”

Supergirl lands gently in the following sentence, next to Cat on both feet, solidly; but there is a distance put between them and Cat is not sure if she approves or disapproves of that distance. Supergirl elaborates, after a moment, all hesitant softness, “For...” She trails off, cheeks turning that same red.

“Mm,” Cat makes a noise in the back of her throat, some sort of offhanded acknowledgment, and then adds after a time, “Apology accepted.” Supergirl ducks her head, and her face is open and warm and gentle, and when she speaks it is very quiet, “I enjoy our relationship as it is now, Miss Grant. I didn't have any intention of...upsetting that...balance. I simply...” She pauses. “Well, I suppose I thought that...that you...”

Cat rolls her eyes, huffs— “Honestly, if you can't say it properly, don't even _try._ ”

The younger (looking?) woman stares at her, like a deer in the headlights, all soft doe eyes and absolutely no understanding. _Ugh._

Cat kisses Supergirl on a Monday.


End file.
